Steve&Peggy's 20 Questions
by Mellpen00
Summary: What did they first notice about each other? Who is the introvert, and who is the extrovert? Who picks the annoying tracks on Mario Kart? Some questions just have to be answered. I know I'm YEARS late to this party, but have some Steggy fluff. This is a group of one-shots based on my compiled list of 20 OTP prompts. No slash, smut, or swears. COMPLETE. (Now with bonus chapter)
1. First Impressions (1943)

**A/N: **So, I know that I'm _ridiculously_ late to the party (by about, say, 8 years), but I have always loved Steve and Peggy, and wished that they had gotten more time. That being the case, along with the fact that _Endgame_ is coming up, I decided to indulge in a little (ok, a LOT) of escapism AU. This story is based off of a series of 20 OTP prompts that I collected. 19 of the 20 chapters have already been written, so updates should be regular. I'm aiming for once a week. This first chapter is canon-compliant, but all of the others take place in the 21st century, and Peggy is neither old, nor dead, which means: AU! My abbreviated headcanon for this particular story is that, after Steve crashes his plane, Peggy goes on to start SHIELD. At one point they are experimenting with cryostasis technology, and Peggy volunteers as a test subject. Fast-forward to after Avengers 1 (when Tony hacked into SHEILD's databases), and he uncovers the forgotten project and finds Peggy. If anyone's interested I have a whole timeline and everything written down! Anyone? No? Just me then...

Well, sorry for the somewhat wordy introduction, but please enjoy the first chapter of _Steve&Peggy's 20 Questions_.

Thank you!

_~Mellpen00_

* * *

**1\. What did they notice first about each other?**

**Her right hook. It would have been kind of hard **_**not to **_**notice. **

Hodge had been a jerk from the start. Jerk was an understatement, but Steve tried not to be too critical, he wasn't there to judge the other recruits, after all. He was there to train, so he made up his mind to keep his head down, to push himself, and to do whatever Erskine asked of him. Still, even just the few days of settling into the base were some of the hardest. Hearing how Hodge and some of the other guys talked really made Steve's blood boil. They weren't there to serve their country, or to help people; they were there to show off how much they could lift, how far they could run, and how well they could fire their rifles. At least five times in as many hours, Steve had to clench his fists behind his back to keep from hurling himself at Hodge's oh-so-punchable mug. So, it was no surprise to Steve that the woman who captured his heart had done so by knocking that egotistical smirk off of Mr. Bully's face and making that same face eat dust.

They had been lined up on their very first day. Someone had called them to attention and they had done so reflexively. An agent introduced herself, and Steve could feel, more than see, all of the men's eyes train on her, and not in a good way. Now, Steve wasn't blind, he knew she was beautiful – uncommonly so – but she was also currently the highest-ranking person on the field, so he gave her his full attention. Agent Carter (as she had introduced herself) had garnered a less-than-respectful comment from Hodge, and Steve had to bite back yet another violent urge. But then… Oh, then what came next was a sight that Steve would never forget. Agent Carter told Hodge to step forward. She waited until he said something suitably inflammatory. Then, without any warning, she pulled her fist back and _BAM!_ decked him! Right in the nose! Her delivery had been so perfect, and her attack so sudden, that Hodge sprawled in the dirt in an undignified heap.

Steve smiled for the first time since Bucky had left. Right then and there, he knew that he would never in a hundred years meet someone else like Agent Carter.

**His determination. In a camp full of soldiers that were all pushing their hardest, no one pushed harder than the 90-pound asthmatic. **

Peggy loved her job. Honestly, she had done too much and fought too hard to not love it, but that didn't make it fun. She had to spend all day and night dealing with bureaucrats and glorified rugby players. To be sure, there were a few exceptions – Colonel Phillips at least treated her with his own brand of derisive respect, and Dr. Erskine was a genuinely good man – but still, being surrounded by that much pretension and ego nearly all the time was exhausting. Things got better when she began to oversee the physical training of the recruits though: when the overconfident high-school stars slowly realized that this wasn't going to be a cake walk for them either. They all began to push themselves, and as a result they began to leave false pride behind. They would work hard, and the ones who did best would brag, and then the others would work harder and surpass the braggers the next day. Competition was the best motivator for these men, and it made them push as hard as they possibly could. There was one recruit, however, who passed them all when it came to determination, even if they routinely left him in the dust during races.

At the beginning, she had briefly wondered what he was doing in the camp, but had quickly just written him off as Erskine's pet project. The days rolled by, however, and he became the most interesting one of the bunch. He lagged behind, but he never gave up. At the end of an exercise all of the men would finish within five minutes of each other, chests heaving and sweat pouring off of them, and then He would show up ten minutes later – his entire frame wracked with his shuddering coughs and wheezes – and collapse on the ground. By the time he had been on the ground for thirty seconds, the drill sergeant would get impatient and order everyone to line up for the next exercise. The men would groan and line up slowly, and Peggy would turn her eyes to Erskine's man. Without a moment's hesitation, he would brace his arms against the ground and raise himself up by sheer force of will.

_How?_ She would wonder. _How can someone be so… Whatever he is? _

Eventually, watching this man, this Steve Rogers, Peggy learned more clearly than ever before that _true_ strength, _true_ fortitude, and _true_ value, come from what is inside a person.

It was Peggy's job to record each of the men's times and scores in training. Over and over she had to write the name _Gilmore Hodge_ at the top of the list, and the name _Steven Rogers_ at the bottom. So, when it came time to rank the candidates for the Project Rebirth, it was Peggy's absolute delight to type the name _Steven Rogers_ at the top, and put _Gilmore Hodge _in the very last space.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope I made a good first impression. Please let me know what you think!

**Next up: **What's their favorite thing to do together?


	2. The Homecoming Waltz (2013)

**A/N:** First off, I'd like to say thank you to the people who have read, followed, favorited, and reviewed this story! Especially _EndlessGalaxies97, Mandis, _and an anonymous _Ryn. _I decided to go ahead and post the second chapter, because... Well, frankly because I'm impatient. This story takes place about a year after _Avengers_ 1, and probably six or so months after Peggy gets out of cryostasis. Again! if anyone is even mildly curious about where these fall, or the other aspects of my AU, please ask! I have a timeline. :D

* * *

**2\. Favorite thing to do together?**

**Dancing. They'll spend whole evenings listening to records and waltzing around the house.**

"And forward and to the side and join your other foot. Yes! Just like that. I knew you'd be a quick learner."

"Well you're a good—"

"Oof!"

"I'm sorry! I got distrac—"

"Oof!"

"Sorry! I..."

"Maybe you shouldn't talk dear. Just focus on counting."

About twenty minutes ago, Captain Steven Rogers had been sitting on his luxurious couch in his expansive apartment in Avengers' Tower, wondering what to do with himself. He had tried television, but found it too loud and off-putting. He had been about to try one of the books from his "Absolutely Must Read" list, when JARVIS announced that Ms. Carter was coming down the elevator, and a brown-headed whirlwind blew through Steve's living room. Apparently, Peggy had come to the sudden realization that Steve had _still_ never learned how to dance, so she had come on a mission: teach Captain America to waltz.

If the task had proved somewhat difficult, Peggy didn't mind; she was always up for a challenge, and besides – it meant spending more time with Steve, so she was happy.

"Alright, now that you've got the basics down, how about we try some music?" Peggy could tell the Steve was a little reluctant, but she just smiled to herself as she crossed to the suitcase she had brought, which was filled with records. She turned through them for a moment before finding the album she wanted.

"Ah ha! Here it is." She pulled the disc from its cover and went to set it on Steve's record player. "It will be perfect: fun, but easy to move to." Peggy set the needle and the music started, then she moved back to Steve, whose hand obligingly took up residence on her waist again. Peggy waited a moment, counting to the music in her head, before pushing herself and Steve into motion.

"Listen, can you hear it with the music?" She cocked one ear and counted it out for him. "One, two, three. One, two, three. Yes, 'round like that." Neither of them spoke for a while, Steve concentrating on the steps, and Peggy studying his face as he watched his feet and mouthed "one, two, three – one, two, three" subconsciously. She smiled to herself, and wondered if the words of the song she had chosen had even registered with Steve. She doubted it; he surely would have given some kind of reaction. But instead of pointing them out, she just listened and savored the words as she watched him.

_And the melody as we sway_

_Will tell you what I've waited to say._

_When all our goodbyes are history,_

_Save the home-coming waltz for me.  
_

The instrumental of the song began and Peggy thought that was as good a place as any to transition.

"Alright," she said, "seeing as you're doing so well, I think it's time you took the lead." Steve faltered for a moment, nearly stepping on Peggy's toes. Again.

"Oh, I don't think that's a good—" But Peggy would brook no argument.

"Don't think, just do."

_-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-_

"There! Don't you see how easy it is?" Peggy smiled at her pupil. The blue eyes looking up at her were unamused.

"But Mum, why do I have to learn to _waltz_?" Michael asked. Though he said the word as if it were a curse, he was still moving in time with the music, so Peggy supposed that counted for something.

"_Because_," Peggy mimicked her son's whining tone, "you never know when you might need it. And," she added slyly, "it could really impress a girl someday." The eight-year-old wrinkled his nose.

"Can't you just teach me to punch someone instead?"

Peggy gave a long-suffering sigh. "Oh, I suppose." Michael perked up. "But only _after_ you learn how to swing." The boy deflated again, and muttered something right as Steve came in the room. His son spotted him as a potential ally.

"Dad! Help! She's torturing me!"

Steve seemed skeptical. "That's not what it looks like to me. In fact," he cocked an ear as the next song began to play, "I think I'd like a turn." He crossed to his wife and son. "May I cut in?" he asked the latter, who gladly relinquished the former's hand and deserted the room.

"He doesn't seem too thrilled with dancing lessons," Steve commented, once Michael had gone.

"No, I don't suppose he is," Peggy replied. Then a smile quirked at her lips. "Though, he is a much quicker learner than you were." Steve just rolled his eyes and pulled her closer, humming along with the first song they had ever danced to.

_Save the homecoming waltz for me,_

_We will dance when the world is free._

_I'll hold you so close to my heart again,_

_Knowing that we'll never part again._

_Save the homecoming waltz for me._

* * *

**A/N:** If you want to hear this song that they dance to, look up "homecoming waltz by Donald Peers" on YouTube.

**Next up:** Who's the introvert and who's the extrovert?


	3. Compromises (2013)

**A/N:** So, I've decided to update twice a week. One, because some of the chapters are a little short, and two, because like I said, I'm a little impatient, and having these things on my computer is driving me nuts! So I'm going to be updating on Mondays and Thursdays. Thanks again to everyone who has read, followed, and reviewed! It really does make my day. :)

* * *

**3\. Who's the introvert and who's the extrovert?**

**Steve is the introvert, Peggy's the extrovert. They don't understand each other.**

Steve looked at himself in the mirror and sighed. This was the third date in a row that he and Peggy had gone out with other people. It wasn't that Steve didn't like their friends, he just… wanted some alone time with Peggy: some time where they didn't have to do anything or entertain anyone. He wanted to just be with her, to sit on the couch together, maybe watch a movie. But instead, here he was, putting on a suit for the third time in two weeks, getting ready to go out with a large group of people. Again.

_Oh well,_ Steve said to himself as he straightened his tie. _At least you'll get to spend time with Peggy._ The thought made him brighten somewhat, and later, when he picked Peggy up and got to see her smile as he told her how beautiful she looked, he decided that maybe going out had its good points too.

_-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-_

Peggy was going crazy. She had been stuck in the Tower doing paperwork for three days straight. What made the paperwork even more frustrating was the fact that it was an application for SHIELD._ The agency which she had helped found! _Steve had been very understanding, having gone through a similar process himself, but even he could only stand so much ranting. However, at long, long last, Peggy had signed her last signature, and licked her last envelope, and she was free! All she wanted now was to go out and have fun, and Steve had said he would plan something so that she could do just that. Well, he hadn't used those exact words, but he said he was planning a celebration, so that essentially meant the same thing.

Or, she thought it had meant the same thing. Peggy showed up at Steve's apartment like he had told her to and, instead of the extravagant dinner plans she had expected (and, quite honestly, wanted), Steve had set up a quiet, intimate movie night. She felt her heart drop a little as she surveyed the room, noting that everything was almost exactly the opposite of how she would have planned it herself. All except one thing: Steve's face. Normally, when they went out, he became more reserved, but now his expression was completely open. Looking at that face, Peggy decided that maybe it was the thought that counted after all.

_-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-_

Steve felt the bed move as Peggy shot up into a sitting position. Steve tensed and started up too.

"What is it?" he asked quickly, "Did you hear something?" Peggy didn't answer his question.

"Wait, so you actually, truly don't like large groups of people?"

Steve sighed and laid back down. "Really? You got that just now. After five years of marriage?"

"So, it's _true_?" Peggy was incredulous.

"Yeah."

"Oh." Peggy laid back down as well. "Hm."

* * *

**Next up: **Who is most ticklish?


	4. Torture (2013)

**A/N: **As promised, here's the next chapter! Let me know what you think!

* * *

**4\. Who is most ticklish?**

**Steve. When Steve sneaks up on Peggy he hugs her. When Peggy sneaks up on Steve she attacks him.**

_Move silent. Breathe silent. Think silent. You only get one chance at this. _

Peggy moved as quietly as possible. Her body was tense and her mind alert, testing each step lest a wrong move give her away. She had to have the element of surprise, there was no other way this would work. She held her breath and strained her ears to catch the sounds of her prey.

There it was. She could hear it, just around the corner. It didn't know it was being hunted, and Peggy was glad. Edging herself closer to the corner, she took a deep, silent breath and calmed her heart rate. This was it, this was her chance.

_One... Two… Three!_

"Ah ha!" she shouted, pouncing on her quarry. If it hadn't been for her excellent reflexes, Peggy would have been foiled by her opponent's defensive manoeuvres, but thankfully she had been expecting them. She knew they wouldn't last long.

"Peggy, what the-" Steve didn't get to finish the sentence, he was too busy giggling. Yes, giggling. Captain America had one weakness that Peggy was almost positive none of his enemies had ever discovered. He was ticklish – violently so.

Peggy had found out almost by accident early on in their relationship. He had done something to ruffle her feathers, stolen the remote perhaps, and she had poked him in the side, not expecting it to have any effect. However, it ended up having the effect of Steve flinching and immediately relinquishing the remote to Peggy's power. She didn't act on the knowledge immediately, merely raised an eyebrow and catalogued it for further use.

By this point, Steve had come to rue the day that he let his weakness show. Not only could he never win in a fight with Peggy now, he was also subjected to frequent sneak-attacks, such as this one, which left him flat on his back, totally helpless, and gasping for air.

"St- stop- stop it!" he managed to choke out, but Peggy was relentless. She just grinned and cackled.

The fun couldn't last forever though. Eventually, Steve got himself enough under control that he was able to grab Peggy's wrists. She shrieked and tried to fight back, but he was able to use his enhanced strength and rotate her so that her arms were pinned to her hips in a straight-jacket hold. Peggy struggled against the hold and lashed out with her legs, but Steve quickly neutralized that too, clamping his own legs down on hers and trapping them to the ground. He was still trying to catch his breath, so he just held them there: him flat on his back with her back flush to his chest, his arms and legs trapping hers. It was at this inopportune moment that they heard the elevator for Steve's floor of the Tower ding open.

Peggy and Steve froze, realizing what their situation might look like, and then scrambled to their feet. Peggy immediately felt Steve release her arms, and they both went about straightening their hair and clothing.

"Steve?" Natasha's voiced echoed from the entryway, around the corner from where Steve and Peggy were. For some inexplicable reason, neither Steve nor Peggy felt the desire to disclose their location, so they stayed silent. Peggy heard Natasha enter the kitchen and set down a plastic bag. Steve and Peggy stayed frozen, and it seemed that Natasha was equally still in the kitchen. Finally, she began walking back towards the elevator.

"Hey JARVIS, can you tell Steve that I left him those cookbooks I promised?"

There was a beat of silence, and Peggy wondered if the AI would rat on them.

"Certainly, Agent Romanoff. I shall do so the moment he enters the kitchen."

If Natasha thought anything about this strange wording, she didn't comment, and simply left the way she had come. Steve and Peggy each let out a sigh when the elevator doors closed behind her.

"So," Steve began, glancing sideways at Peggy, "next time, can't you give me a _little_ bit of warning before you attack me?"

Peggy was still oddly keyed up – whether from adrenaline or something else, she wasn't sure – so she actually considered his request.

"Maybe, but no promises."

* * *

**Next up:** Who would pressure the other into singing karaoke?


	5. Crooner (2014)

**A/N:** Hello again you all! Thank you to the ones who have favorited, followed, and commented. To the anonymous _Alex_ who commented, I say (with the help of Google Translate): ¡Gracias! Me alegro de poder hacerte sonreír.

As for timing, this happens somewhere after the events of Iron Man 3, and before Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Please tell me what you think!

P.S. It's a week away from you know what! Who's terrified? I know I am!

* * *

**5\. Who'd pressure the other into singing karaoke?**

**Steve has a lovely voice, but the only time Peggy gets to hear it is at church, so she'll take any opportunity she can get.**

Steve sighed as he stood up.

"I hope you know I'm only doing this because I love you," he said, glancing down at Peggy. She nodded, her eyes wide in mock-innocence. Steve raised an eyebrow at her and took a deep breath. Then Peggy shoved him toward the stage and tried to restrain a smile.

She was smiling because she finally had him cornered.

See, the thing about Steve was that he had an absolutely wonderful singing voice, but he absolutely would not sing. Not at home, and _definitely _not in public. Peggy had no idea why and, frankly, she didn't care all that much either. All she knew was that she loved hearing Steve sing, and, with the exception of church on Sundays, she never got to hear him. But now an opportunity had presented itself.

About twenty minutes ago Tony had announced that the karaoke mic was now open, and had even given an… amusing performance himself. Peggy had been smiling ever since then, not because of Tony's antics, but because she had a plan – a plan to finally get Steve to sing for her. Only a select few people knew it, but today was her birthday, and she was definitely not above coercion.

She had started off easy, half-hearted sighs and playful comments about Steve singing, but slowly she had gotten more and more insistent about it, and finally Steve had conceded. So now he was up on the stage, asking the band about a particular song. She saw them confer, and Steve shot a sly smile her way. For a moment Peggy felt a touch of apprehension. She hadn't given any thought to _which _song he would sing. What if Steve used this as a chance to get back at her? She couldn't immediately think of anything that would be particularly embarrassing, but what if…

Peggy didn't have time to pursue that train of thought because the music started.

As soon as she heard the opening notes, Peggy's concerns were forgotten. Her face lit up and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from smiling too wide. Even that wasn't enough, and as Steve smiled back at her – a playful, "I-can't-believe-I'm-doing-this-for-you" smile – he was almost knocked off his feet by the look in her eyes. They were shining so bright, and he knew it was for him.

Though to everyone else the song was an old classic, to them it was as new as everything else had been when they had come into the 21st century. They had first heard it on a record that Natasha had gotten them (supposedly a joke about how old they were, though in all actuality the record was much younger than them), but Steve and Peggy both loved it. The music still had some of the familiar qualities of the 40's, but it was bouncier, more fun. Even as the music was just beginning, Steve was tapping his toe along with it. As he started singing, Peggy wanted to close her eyes and let his voice melt over her, but she couldn't miss the sight of him watching her and singing:

_L – is for the way you look at me,_

_O – is for the only one I see._

_V – is very, very extra-ordinary-_

Somewhere behind her, Rhodey and Natasha exchanged money, and other guests were sweeping their partners into a dance, but Peggy just sat there spellbound: heart full and eyes sparkling.

_Love is all that I can give to you,_

_Love is more than just a game for two._

Steve finished the verse and, after handing the microphone to the entertaining musician, stepped off the stage while the band played the instrumental of the song. Peggy was up from her chair before he had even gotten to her and she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight.

"Happy birthday, Peggy," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

"That was lovely, dear. Thank you."

"Anything for my best gal," he pulled back a little and gave her a peck on the lips. "Now, would you care to dance?"

Peggy beamed at him, "Of course."

They moved onto the dance floor, where most of the couples were now, and stepped in time to the playful, happy music.

_Two in love can make it,_

_Take my heart and please don't break it,_

_Love was made for me and you._

* * *

**A/N:** The song is "L-O-V-E" by Nat King Cole.

**Next up:** Who's more likely to go on a health-food kick?


	6. Adventures in Cooking (2015)

**A/N: **Hey everyone! Here's the next chapter, right on time. Please let me know if you like it! Even just a simple "Good story." is encouraging. :)

This takes place in between _CA:TWS_ and _Age of Ultron_.

* * *

**6\. Who's more likely to go on a health-food kick?**

**Steve. Though it's more of an exploration thing than a health thing.**

To say that Steve had been shocked when he got to the 21st century would be an understatement. He had been stunned by the technological advancements, dazed by the change in the pace of life, and astounded by the… grocery stores. Sure, instant communication, color photography, and civil rights all took a bit of getting used to, but the thing that Steve absolutely _could not_ get over, were the supermarkets.

When Steve had been young a grocery store was a little shop with fruit-stands outside and shelves of canned goods inside. You went in with a list of what you needed, and got as many of the items as you could. If the grocer happened to be out of something, you told him what you needed, and he would promise to send one of his five or six kids to tell you when he restocked – which would probably be in a month or so.

But now! Now a grocery store was a massive concrete structure that could fill the outfield of a baseball stadium. Outside there were vending machines that could give you soda, movies, newspapers, or candy. Inside there was, well, everything! The first time Steve had gone to a Walmart, Natasha had pretty much had to drag him out by his shirt collar. (But Natasha! They have _twenty-five _kinds of dog food! _Dog food_, Natasha!)

Peggy had also been impressed with the advent of the supermarket, but her interest had stopped there. She moved on to other things that were more worthy of her awe. Like the moon landing, and the fact that the agency she had started now had international headquarters.

Peggy's lack of interest didn't do anything to discourage Steve though. He insisted on being the one to plan the meals, go to the store, and cook for all the Avengers in the Tower. He would go, find six or seven food items that he had never heard of, buy enormous quantities, and bring them back home to make into something. A lot of times this resulted in fantastic, exotic meals that everyone loved. Other times Steve got a little too experimental. It got especially bad when he had somehow found the Whole Foods store.

What followed were weeks of health food recipes. To Steve's credit, he did steer clear of some of the stranger things (he never came home with jars of duck fat or boxes of "edible flowers", thank goodness), but that didn't mean that he was completely free of blame. For the most part the occupants of the Tower humored him, but one can only take so much food that tastes like grass and sawdust.

_**-** S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-_

"My_ lord_, that's a stench. Rogers, please tell me you haven't graduated to using road kill in your little experiments."

Steve snorted as Tony took his seat at the table. "Not tonight. Though, once you get past the texture, possum isn't half bad." This earned a grimace from Peggy and Pepper, and a nod of agreement from Bruce and Clint.

"Tonight," Steve went on, ignoring the suspicious glance that Tony was giving Bruce, "we have tacos!"

A general cheer went up, but Pepper still seemed confused. "But if we're having tacos, where is that smell coming from?"

"Oh, the smell is still from the tacos," Steve said, setting the serving dish down on the table. He lifted the lid and a cloud of steam came out, along with a horrible smell. It was something like rotten fish, mixed with moldy grass. Hands came up to cover noses immediately, and more than a few expletives were muttered.

"Steven Grant Rogers," Peggy scolded between coughs, "what in _heaven's_ name is _that_?"

Despite the reaction to his handiwork, Steve had the audacity to look pleased. "Kale and seaweed tacos!" he announced proudly. "The shells are made from dehydrated kale and seaweed, and the filling is a mix of fish, couscous, and some Korean sauce I picked up at the international store."

"Well it smells like death, and I'm not eating it." Tony pushed his chair from the table and headed towards the elevator. "JARVIS, fire up the ventilation fans." Something in the ceiling whirred to life, moving the air in the expansive living area.

One by one the others left the table as well, until only Steve and Peggy remained. Finally, Steve put the lid back on with a sigh and took his creation back to the kitchen. By this time most of the smell was gone, so Peggy could finally breathe normally. She followed him at a safe distance until he had set the serving dish down and back away from it, then she moved forward and wrapped her arms around him. He put his arms around her as well and gave another sigh.

"I'm sorry, dear," Peggy looked up at him. "Are you really very disappointed?"

Steve thought for a moment before answering. "Not too badly." He offered a wry grin. "I guess I just got carried away."

"Oh, I think we're far past 'carried away'. Carried away happened the moment you made brussel sprout lasagna."

"What!" Steve looked down at her incredulously. "I thought everyone liked that!"

Peggy gave him an equally disbelieving expression. "You can't honestly think that."

"Well, nobody _said_ anything about it."

"Steve, our opinions ranged from indifferent at best, to disturbed at worst."

"Then why didn't anyone _say_ anything?"

Peggy laid her head against his chest. "We were trying to be kind, I suppose." She paused. "And we all thought it was a phase at first."

Steve sighed again and rested his chin on her head. Peggy squeezed him tighter, and they stood there in silence for a minute or two, before Steve's stomach gave a growl.

"Ah, yes," Peggy pulled back again. "That still leaves the question of dinner. I wonder what the others are having?" Before Steve even had a chance to open his mouth, another voice answered.

"I have been told to place an order for Chinese food, Agent Carter. Shall I add yours and Captain Rogers' orders to the transaction?"

Steve looked down at Peggy, who shook her head. He pulled her back closer to him. "No thanks, JARVIS, we'll find something else."

"Very good, sir."

Steve waited a few moments before he asked:

"So what _do_ you want for dinner? Because I'm assuming it's not kale tacos."

Steve felt Peggy frown against his chest. "No thank you. I was thinking omelets. We have eggs here, don't we?"

"Omelets aren't very exciting."

"Steve," she pulled back from him, "you just tried to make a Mexican dish with Mediterranean, African, and Korean foods. I think boring works just fine, don't you?"

Steve gave a sheepish grin. "Omelets it is."

* * *

**Next up: **Who picks the obnoxious tracks on Mario Kart?


	7. Rainbow Road (2015)

**A/N:** So... I just watched _Infinity War_ again... I'm not sure if it was a mistake or not, seeing as it was _just_ as traumatizing as I remembered, but I will say that I'm much less apprehensive about _Endgame_. Surely with all of these positive rave reviews we're seeing, the ending can't be as excruciating as _IW_'s was... right? RIGHT?

Well, since it all ends today, and since it is highly likely that it will be the last time we see our beloved Original Six together, have a story backed by my version of our fandom's favorite AU: everyone lives in the Tower and they all love each other! Please let me know what you think, and if you're going to see _Endgame _tonight! Or, whenever the premier is where you are. Thank you all for reading! Enjoy. :)

* * *

**7\. Who picks the obnoxious tracks (Rainbow Road) on Mario Kart?**

**Steve. And he wins! Every time! Stupid enhanced reflexes.**

"Well, that was extremely decisive."

"And painful. I think I strained my back."

"You should have warmed up."

"I'm sorry, warmed up for a _children's game_? Romanoff, I think there's a chance you're taking Twister too far."

"Hey, I won, didn't I?"

Tony merely grumbled to himself as he followed the rest of the Avengers towards the sitting area. It was game night at Avengers' Tower.

None of them had really planned on regular game nights, but rather it had just sort of… happened. One night Steve and Bucky had been playing checkers, and then Peggy had roped Bruce, Tony, and Pepper into a game of hearts while Clint, not wanting to be left out, dug up a set of Jenga blocks and taught Thor and Natasha how to play. JARVIS must have marked it on his internal calendar, because exactly one month from that day he notified each party involved that they were wanted in the community living area immediately. When they showed up, each wondering what the emergency was, all they saw was the dining room table piled with board games and pizza.

They had all accepted it, and thus, barring any alien invasions or threats to global security, every second Tuesday of the month was Game Night. Eventually, when the bickering over Who Gets to Pick Next got to be too much for Pepper, a system was developed, and it had been smooth sailing from there on out.

Now, as the game of Twister (Thor's choice) closed in an overwhelming victory for Natasha, the Avengers crowded around the up-turned Iron Man helmet and waited for Pepper to draw the next name.

"Steve!" she announced. Everyone groaned.

"Might as well get this over with," Clint sighed, heading for the table where the games were stacked. The others began to do the same, and Natasha asked Steve who the teams would be.

"Wait a second," Steve held out his hand, confused. "I haven't even picked what I want to play!" Nobody even paused what they were doing.

"Don't worry, Cap, we know the drill." Tony began to unbox Pictionary and set it up. Steve merely planted his feet.

"What makes you think I was gonna choose Pictionary?"

Bruce and Thor looked over at him, then at each other. "Well," Bruce began, "it is what you've picked for every game night so far."

Steve crossed his arms. "So you guys think I'm predictable." Peggy and Natasha answered at the same time.

"I prefer the term 'reliable'."

"Yep."

That seemed to conclude the discussion for the rest of the team, but Steve stayed where he was, wheels turning in his head. He glanced away from where the others were, towards the enormous entertainment center on the opposite wall. A lightbulb went off in his brain.

"Tony, do you have any video games?"

"Of course," Stark said without raising his eyes from from what he was doing.

"Do you have Mario Kart?"

This finally got the billionaire's attention, and he turned to look at Steve. "Yeah. Why?"

"I want to play."

This caught everyone's attention, and Steve thought he saw Peggy start to grin. Striding over to the TV, Steve asked, "JARVIS, where's Mario Kart?"

-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-

"Ok, ok, step aside. Let the master have a turn." Tony took the controller from a recently-defeated Bruce and sat down on the couch next to Steve, who had a self-satisfied smirk growing on his face.

"You really want to try this, Stark?"

"If you desire to win, sir, this is hardly advisable. Captain Rogers' success rate is perfect for the evening."

Tony was already busy picking out his character when he replied to the disembodied voice, "Stuff it, J. It's just beginner's luck. He's no match for a real pro."

JARVIS offered no argument, but his silence seemed to be of the longsuffering variety.

Steve grinned and shrugged, "Have it your way. Where do you want to race, pro?"

"Oh no," Tony objected, "you're the rookie here, grandpa. You pick."

"You really shouldn't have done that Tony…" Peggy warned, but it came too late for the billionaire: Steve had already made his selection.

"Rainbow Road."

Tony snorted. "Cheap move, Rogers. Not that it matters; I'll beat you one way or another."

The countdown started, and then the race commenced. Steve misjudged his boost on the starting line and stalled, giving Tony an immediate lead, but that didn't last for too long. Almost before the first lap was halfway over, Steve had reclaimed his place in first and bumped Tony off the side. The spectators, specifically the ones who had been beaten by Steve not too long ago, cringed at Tony's misfortune. They were all just glad that _they_ weren't the ones racing on the borderless, shifting, multicolored course.

The second lap seemed to be the longest, with the two superheroes battling, trading bananas and shells in an effort to gain or maintain the lead. They traded places a couple of times, but then, right before a jump, Steve knocked Tony off again, and by the time Stark had righted himself, he had fallen all the way to 8th place. There was still one more lap to go, though, and the next item Tony got was a blue shell. Grinning maniacally, he launched it. It rose up above him and went speeding for the player in first place, which was Steve. Cap heard the sirens, but there wasn't anything he could do. Soon enough the shell caught up with him and exploded, lifting his kart up and shoving it off the side.

Unluckily for Tony, Cap's lead had been so big that he was barely in second place by the time he got back on the track. He easily overtook the computer player ahead of him and crossed the finish line first, leaving Stark far back behind. Tony sat back, dumbfounded.

"I just don't get it – you were on ice when video games were invented!"

Peggy piped up from where she was sitting on the other couch, "Enhanced reflexes. Don't feel too bad about it, dear."

"Steroids!" Tony nearly shouted. "You're literally using performance enhancing drugs."

Steve smirked and leaned forward, snagging a handful of M&M's from the bowl on the coffee table. He popped them in his mouth.

"Blame the army."

* * *

**A/N: **Just because I'm not sure I know myself, how do you think Thor, Natasha, and Clint's game of Jenga went?

**Next up: **Who used their words to fight people, and who uses their fists?


	8. A Wager (2015)

**A/N: **Here's the next chapter! Even though it's pretty short, it's one of my favorites because I got to write two of my favorite characters (and, incidentally, one of my major OTPs)! I hope you enjoy this, and please tell me if you think I got everybody in character. Thank you!

* * *

**8\. Who uses their words to fight people, and who uses their fists?**

**They both prefer fists, but they're ok with using words too.**

Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff sat at the bar in Avengers' Tower, watching as Steve Rogers danced with his new bride. Music was playing softly, and both the bride and groom looked completely, incandescently happy. Steve was looking sharp in his 40's style tuxedo, Peggy was gorgeous in her wedding dress. It was simple, but elegant, just like the wedding.

The ceremony itself had been in a tiny chapel that Steve and Peggy had discovered in the Tower. Even Tony hadn't known it was there, and it was just big enough to accommodate the Avengers and their significant others. Bucky had stood up with Steve, and Natasha had stood up with Peggy, each performing their duties as witnesses and attendants. Now, at the reception in the main living area, the best man and maid of honor were enjoying being as far from the spotlight as possible.

They sat in silence for a while, just watching and taking occasional sips from their drinks, then Bucky had a thought.

"Did it ever occur to you that this might have been a bad idea?"

"Obviously," Natasha replied immediately, keeping her eyes trained on the dancing couple. "I mean, they're perfect for each other."

"Yeah."

"And they're going to do a lot of good."

"Definitely."

"But neither of them has any clue how to pick battles."

"Nope."

There was a beat of silence before Bucky spoke up again.

"And you didn't do anything about it?" His tone wasn't accusatory, just curious.

Natasha merely shook her head. "Why?" she asked casually, "Did you? Back in the day, I mean."

"Nah." Bucky seemed equally unworried. "He was finally talking to a dame, and well, there was kind of a war going on."

"That's fair." Natasha paused. "But I do think we both agree that it's a publicity incident waiting to happen."

"Oh yeah. No question about that. Though, thankfully not too many people are going to be stupid enough to pick a fight with Captain America." That earned a smirk from Natasha.

"True," she agreed. "Still, it's not going to take too long for them to get into trouble. Someone's going to say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and then he'll have Agent Carter and Captain America descending on him in righteous fury."

"Yeah, that's the downside to all_ this_," Bucky gestured to Steve's impressive physique, "holding him back by his shirt collar ain't gonna cut it anymore."

Natasha nodded, eyeing the deceptively tame-looking couple on the dance floor. She made up her mind.

"I suppose we're just going to have to run interference for them."

Bucky made up his mind as well. "I suppose so."

He turned to Natasha and held out his hand. "So, protectors of the newly established Rogers family?" Natasha merely shook her head, eyes still trained on Steve and Peggy, who had just finished their dance.

"I don't do handshake agreements. There's nothing to hold you to it. Make it a bet, and I'm in."

Bucky nodded and thought for a few seconds. "Alright, you take Peggy and I'll take Steve. First one whose charge gets involved in a fist fight has to buy the other one a steak dinner." Natasha mulled this over for a moment before she turned to Bucky and grinned.

"You're on."

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, I saw _Endgame_. Yes, it was amazing. Yes, I cried. Yes, you should go see it. No, I'm not going to say anything else about it.

**Next up: **Who prefers rain, and who prefers sun?


	9. London Fog (2015)

**A/N: **Thank you so much to all of those who favorited, followed, and reviewed! I hope that these are still engaging and enjoyable. As for now, please enjoy some low-key, rainy-day fluff. :)

* * *

**9\. Who prefers rain and who prefers sun?**

**Peggy likes rain, it reminds her of London.**

Steve sat on the couch, flipping through the channels and trying to determine if there was anything worth watching on television. He came to a decided verdict that, no, there was not. It was all b-rate movies and reality shows today, and he didn't have the stomach for either of those. Switching off the TV, he set the remote down on the end table and looked at Peggy, who was tucked under his arm, reading. Only she wasn't reading. She had a book in her lap, but it had fallen closed, her index finger wedged in it like a bookmark. Her other hand was propped under her chin and she was watching the rain patter against the window of their brand new apartment.

It was one of the rare days when neither of them had an assignment, and since it was raining, they had decided to stay home and do nothing, a luxury which they didn't often have. So far it had been very pleasant; they had slept in and then had pancakes (Steve made them), they had read some, to themselves and out loud, and then Steve had decided to turn on the television and see what was on. Now, watching Peggy, he would normally have thought she was just staring into space, but the look on her face was too… wistful for it to just be that. Steve's brow knit and he started to worry that something was bothering her; she was usually so cheerful. But he knew that even the cheery people had bad days sometimes.

"Hey," he said gently, nudging her with his side. "You ok?"

Peggy gave her head a little shake, as if she was rousing herself, and turned to smile at him.

"Yes," she answered, and then she saw the worry on his face and her own brow creased in confusion. "Why?"

Steve shrugged, "You just seemed a little," he paused to find the right word, "pensive. Is something bothering you?"

"No," she reassured him, turning toward the window again, "the rain just reminds me of London, is all." Her face cleared and she gave a little smile. Ah, Steve realized, it was a good kind of wistfulness. She was living over fond memories.

"This is my favourite kind of weather, you know. It's so English," she smiled a little more and motioned to the far wall. "I have my fireplace, I have my book, and my comfy place to sit," she nestled in further to Steve and looked up at him briefly before gazing back at the rain. "All that's missing is the cup of tea."

A smile crept onto Steve's face, and, after a moment, he kissed Peggy's head and extricated himself from the couch. When she looked up in question he gave her a smile and a "be right back," and then went to the kitchen. A few minutes later he was returning with a pot of Earl Grey and the rest of the tea things on a tray when he stopped dead in his tracks.

Peggy had moved from the couch and was sitting in the window seat now, her feet tucked up under her. She still held the book in her hand (whether because she intended to read it or because she had forgotten, Steve wasn't sure), and her hair, longer than it had been in 1945, fell around her face in graceful waves. With her elbow resting on the windowsill like that she looked altogether picturesque, but the most breathtaking thing about her was her face. There was absolute peace there, mixed with a tiny bit of wonder.

Praying that she wouldn't move, Steve backed into the kitchen, set down the tray, and picked up his sketchbook.

* * *

**Next up:** Who makes coffee for the other in the morning?


	10. Early Mornings (2015)

**A/N: **I know, I know! It seems like these keep getting shorter! This is one of the shortest ones, though, and after this they'll start getting longer for a little while. Thank you SO much to all the followers, favoriters, and reviewers. I'm truly honored that you guys have thought my story worth expending effort on. :) Also, We're already halfway through! Can you believe it?

* * *

**10\. Who makes coffee for the other in the morning?**

**Steve makes it. He likes to get up early.**

Steve rolled over and _sttrreettched. _After a moment he lifted his head to look at Peggy and he was glad to notice that (for once) he _hadn't_ stolen all the covers; she remained cozily on her side of the bed. Careful not to wake her, Steve got out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it on as he left the room.

It was only 6:00, but the kitchen was tinted with the rosy colors of sunrise. Steve had the sudden urge to get his watercolors out, so he changed his course and went to the hall closet. He eased the door open and surveyed the mess of art supplies that were perched precariously on the shelves. It had, once upon a time, been organized neatly into all the different kinds of paper, pencils, brushes, and other tools, and for a while Peggy tried to keep it that way, but after the twenty-somethingth time that Steve had rummaged through the cabinet and completely destroyed her organizational system, Peggy gave up. That being said, Peggy still couldn't stand how he kept the closet, and, any time she saw him open it and catch the one or two items that inevitably rolled off the shelves, she simply made a frustrated grunt and walked away.

Steve, however, knew where everything was and, after making only a minimal amount of noise, he managed to gather his watercolor supplies. Heading back to the kitchen, he set the paper on the table along brushes of various sizes and about three different paint palettes. Getting the rest of what he needed very quickly, he sat down to paint, trying to catch the way the light slanted over the neighboring rooftop _just _right.

He sat there, his brush moving over the paper – now in short choppy dashes, now in long smooth strokes – until the angle of the light changed and the colors shifted from pink, to yellow, to blue. He sighed. The sun always rose too quickly for his taste: he could never get it quite right. He'd just have to fill in the rest of it later. He stretched in his chair and heard Peggy stir in the other room. He froze.

A less than polite word went through his mind as he whipped his head to look at the clock: 7:08. He was supposed to make the coffee! He had been working for longer than he thought. Thankful that coffee was extremely easy to make, Steve sprang up and started the process, still knowing it wouldn't be quite ready when Peggy got up. Oh well, he thought. Maybe she would accept his painting as an apology.

* * *

**P.S. **So, quick question. I have a whole list of OTP questions that didn't make it into this story. I haven't written one-shots for them (and I don't really plan to), but I have given answers to them. Would you guys like to see them as a bonus chapter at the end?

**Next up:** Who hogs the blanket?


	11. The Dilemma (2016)

**A/N: **And here's the next installment! Thanks for all the reviews! And to the guest who asked for Steve/Peggy recommendations, I'm actually going to recommend one of my faithful readers, _Mellia Bee_! She's written loads of really fantastic Steggy fics - long ones, short ones, funny ones, angsty ones - she's got it all (and she also leaves very kind reviews :) Go check her out!

Now, on to the story!

* * *

**11\. Who hogs the blanket?**

**Steve. When he was small he used to burrow into the covers and have plenty to spare. He's not small anymore.**

Peggy woke with a shiver. It took her sleep-addled mind less than two seconds to process why she was cold and give a frustrated sigh. Craning her head to look behind her, she saw just what she expected to see: her super-soldier husband curled up under a mountain of blankets like a huge house-cat. Curled up under _all_ of the blankets, to be precise. This left Peggy on her side of the bed with nothing but the sheet and a pair of thin pajamas between her and the room's frigid air.

Peggy lay there for a few moments, trying to decide what to do. Usually, because it was nearly impossible to get the blankets from Steve again, she would just move to the couch and sleep there for the rest of the night. The problem this time, however, was that their couch was currently occupied by Tony, who had come to their doorstep earlier that night like a lost, snarky puppy. Apparently Pepper, Rhodey, _and_ Bruce had all had the audacity to go out of town at the same time, leaving Tony with the whole of Avengers' Tower to himself. He didn't like that.

This left Peggy in a rather uncomfortable predicament. As she saw it, she had three choices: 1) remain as she was and become hypothermic. That was no good. 2) Go to the living room and oust Tony from the couch, demanding that he sleep on the floor instead. That was tempting, but she really didn't want to deal with a grumpy Stark right now. 3) Try in some way to reclaim the blankets from Steve. Peggy sighed again. She supposed she would have to do that.

Rolling over so that she faced Steve (who was slumbering on, blissfully unaware of his wife's plight), Peggy curled her fingers around the edge of the comforter and tried to pull it, ever so gently, over in her direction. It didn't budge. She readjusted her grip and, using a little more weight, tugged at it again; still no change. She kept trying, gradually growing in intensity and force until she _yanked_ with all her might.

It did not have the intended effect. Instead of the blanket coming toward Peggy, Peggy's hands slipped and she jerked backwards with a squeak, nearly falling off the bed. Huffing, she righted herself and glared at her sleeping husband. Or at least, she tried to. He really did look sweet like that, and it was hard to stay angry at him for long.

_If you can't beat them… _Peggy found herself thinking, and rolled her eyes.

Settling down on her side, she lifted up the small edge of the blanked that Steve wasn't using and scooted towards him until she could feel his arms against her back. With yet another sigh, this one more from resigned contentment than frustration, Peggy settled in to sleep again, finally warming up. After a minute or two Steve shifted in his sleep, and she felt his arm come over to rest on her waist. Smiling softly, Peggy drifted into her dreams.

But she still wanted her share of the blanket.

* * *

**Next up:** Who takes better care of the other when they're sick?


	12. All Defenses Down (2016)

**A/N: **It's Monday everyone! And that means another chapter. I hope you enjoy it! :)

* * *

**12\. Who takes better care of the other when they're sick?**

**Peggy. Before she got into intelligence during the war, she trained as a nurse.**

_Sniff. _Pause. _Sniff. _Pause. _SNNIIIIIFFFFF. Pause. _

Steve let out an enormous breath, glad no one else was there for him to breathe on; the last thing he wanted was to give someone else this terrible disease.

In all fairness it was probably just a cold, but, if this cold could get past _Captain America's _immune system, Steve didn't want to see what it would do to a normal person. Still, he did wish it hadn't decided to pick on him.

Leaning his head back on the couch, Steve tried to summon the willpower to get up and actually do something. Like paperwork; he had piles of paperwork that needed doing. Steve groaned. That gave him even less motivation than he had had to begin with. But with another groan he managed to do something. He pulled his legs up on the couch and dragged one of the blankets over himself. Then he was asleep.

_-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-_

Steve woke up to someone taking his shoes off. He had just enough strength to glance up and see wavy brown hair bobbing at the end of the couch.

"Beggy?" he asked, his stuffed-up nose blurring the word a little.

Peggy finished tucking the blanket around his feet and then came and sat closer to him, "It seems that you, sir, have caught a pretty bad cold." She kissed his forehead, testing his temperature, and then smoothed his hair back with her hand.

Steve nodded slowly, "I haven't felt this way since before the serub." He took a sniff to try and clear out his nose, but it didn't do anything. When he looked back at Peggy she had an eyebrow arched in disapproval. Steve stopped.

"Whad?"

Peggy stood up and left. "No sniffing," she called from the other room. "It will just make your headaches worse." She returned with a box of Kleenexes and held it out to Steve.

"Blow," she ordered. Steve obeyed as Peggy moved out of sight again, this time returning with a small trash can that she placed next to the couch. Steve thanked her and dropped the soiled tissue into the basket.

"Now," Peggy began, and Steve marveled at the fact that he could literally _see _her change from Peggy Rogers, Steve's wife, to Peggy Carter, Deputy Director of SHIELD. This person demanded his attention, so he listened as carefully as he could.

"The first thing we have to do is get some fluids in you. If you had phoned and told me that you weren't feeling well," she turned a stern look on him, "I could have picked up some things, but I suppose we'll just have to make do with what we have." She left once again, and he heard the refrigerator opening, followed by a couple of cabinets.

"You're awfully lucky," she went on, pitching her voice so that it carried from the kitchen, "We have lots of orange juice here, but you'll have to make do with tomato soup instead of chicken soup. Unless…" She paused, and Steve didn't hear anything for a few seconds. Then:

"Hello, James? You're not in the middle of anything, are you? Good. Steve has gone and got himself a cold. He didn't think to tell me though, so I haven't got what I need. Would you- Oh yes, that would be wonderful. And don't forget- Of course. I know. Thank you so much! I'll see you in a few minutes."

Steve had listened to the conversation with a kind of dread growing. He should have known that Peggy would call Bucky. As much as Steve loved his best friend, sometimes the ex-assassin overdid it, forgetting that Steve wasn't that sickly kid from Brooklyn anymore. And now that Peggy had gone into nurse-mode… Dear goodness. Now there would be two of them. Before Steve could think past that, Peggy was back, a glass of orange juice in one hand and a thermometer in the other. She turned the thermometer on and waited for the display to read zero. Then she held it in front of Steve's closed mouth.

"Open up."

"Beggy, Blease," Steve protested. "It's judt a-" Peggy took her opportunity and thrust the thermometer in his mouth while he was speaking, effectively silencing him. Steve only gave a long sigh of resignation.

As much as he was confident in his own ability to take care of himself, in the next half-hour he was truly thankful for Peggy. While Steve knew he could have gotten up, and even fought, if he had needed to, it was wonderful to have someone who wanted to take care of him. After the first no-nonsense part of Peggy's treatment, the rest seemed to be all about making him as comfortable as possible so his body could heal itself. Steve never did have to experience the full force of both Peggy and Bucky trying to smother him with their care, because by the time Bucky got there with the chicken noodle soup and extra tissues, Steve was fast asleep.

* * *

**Next up: **Who's more likely to burn dinner?


	13. Al Dente (2016)

**A/N: **I told you there would be some longer ones around the corner!

* * *

**13\. Who's more likely to burn dinner?**

**Peggy. Why do you think she joined the army?**

_Ok. I can do this. It's just pasta. It's as simple as it-_

BEEEEEEEP!

Peggy's train of thought was interrupted by the oven's timer wailing at her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Hurriedly stirring the pasta sauce again, she set down her spoon and moved to the oven, opening the door to check on the garlic bread.

Peggy didn't usually make supper. She had never been good at cooking, something her mother had often despaired of in the days before microwave meals. It wasn't that Peggy _couldn't _cook (her scrambled eggs were fine, thank you very much), it just wasn't her forte. Steve usually did all the meal-making, and he _was_ good at it. It turned out that, since his mother had worked long shifts at the hospital, Steve had cooked for them most of his growing up years. Also, since it had been the Great Depression, he had learned to be very resourceful with whatever ingredients he had. As a result, his culinary skills were not only wonderful, but he was always so enthusiastic about finding new ingredients that he rarely cooked the same meal twice.

Alas, Steve was not home. Or, at least, not yet. He had been sent to travel around and do some press for SHIELD and he had been gone for the better part of a month. He was supposed to get home tonight, and Peggy knew that he would be exhausted and very fed up with bureaucracy, so she had planned to make dinner for him as a nice surprise. Only the surprise wasn't turning out so nicely.

Peggy checked the clock. He was scheduled to get home in about fifteen minutes (and Steve was always very punctual), and nothing was ready. Both the spaghetti and garlic bread were taking longer than she'd anticipated, but the sauce had heated up more quickly. It was ok, though. The pasta and bread were cooking some more, and she had set the sauce off the stove so that it wouldn't burn; all things considered, Peggy thought she was doing ok. It may not be ready right when he walked in the door, but that was fine.

Right?

Peggy sighed as she waited for the pasta to come to a boil _again. _She glanced over toward the clock and in doing so caught sight of herself in the hall mirror – that made her stop. She hadn't even thought about what she looked like. Her hair was in a disheveled bun on top of her head, and a now-stained apron was tied over her yoga pants and old shirt of Steve's.

Gasping, Peggy spared one look at the still-not-boiling spaghetti and bolted to the bathroom. Lightning fast, she tore off her sweats and put her robe on before pulling her hair down and brushing it out furiously. Even though she had gotten experience while in the army with putting makeup on in a hurry, she had just started to line her second eye when she heard something sizzling from the other room. Her heart dropped to her stomach and all she could do for a moment was stare at her reflection before flinging her eye pencil to the counter and running to the kitchen.

_Nonononononono!_

The spaghetti was boiling over and looked like it had been for quite some time. The water was half-gone, now spread over the cooktop, and the noodles were burned to the bottom of the pot. With another exclamation of "No!" Peggy removed the pasta from the stove and turned it off. In her hurry, she splattered some of the boiling water out of the pan and onto her hand. Practically dropping the pot into the sink, Peggy bit back a rather violent curse and started to run cold water over her hand. But before she even had time to lament the loss of her spaghetti, she registered the smell of something burning.

The smoke alarm started to blare.

-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-

Steve was _exhausted_. It was a different kind of tired than after a big battle, that kind of tired he could deal with, it just made you want to collapse and sleep for a week. This kind of tired was a mental fatigue that instead made you want to not _think _for a week, and that he didn't like. Steve had always preferred bone-weariness to brain-weariness. It didn't help that his enhanced senses were barraging his already-pounding head with noises that he didn't particularly care to hear. Making his way through the first floor of his and Peggy's apartment, he (inadvertently) heard Mrs. Callaghan yelling at her husband again, Kelly Jones baby-talking to her dog, and the sounds of a plot twist unfolding on TV. Well, that show was ruined for him now. He sighed with relief when the elevator doors shut and all he could hear was the rattling of the cables.

The elevator finally _ding_-ed open on his and Peggy's floor, and he drew his keys out of his pocket as he stepped into the hall. His ears filled with unwanted noise again, but this time one thing in particular caught his attention: he heard a fire alarm. His instincts kicked in almost immediately and he rushed toward the sound, his concern mounting when he found that it was coming from apartment 408. _His apartment!_

He jammed his key into the lock and burst into the hallway, which was filled with a thin screen of acrid smoke.

"Peggy?" He called, looking for both his wife and the source of the smoke as he rushed through the house. He rounded the corner to the kitchen, and his heart stopped for a moment as he saw Peggy huddled on the floor. Dropping to his knees next to her, he asked if she was alright. She nodded, blubbering something about food, and Steve stood up again. He checked over the rest of the apartment in no time, and, finding that there wasn't any threat, he turned off the fire alarm on his way back to the kitchen, thankful to finally have the shrieking noise out of his ears. When he got back to the kitchen, the first thing he did was open the window to let out some of the smoke. That done, he looked back at Peggy, who was still sitting on the floor, and took in the whole scene.

The smoke, it turned out, had come from the oven, and several charred and smoking pieces of bread were scattered on the floor to prove it. Steve also noted a pot of cold spaghetti sauce sitting on the counter and burnt pasta in the sink. And then there was Peggy.

Though she wasn't sobbing like she had been when he had come in, she was still sniffing, and she looked quite strange. It took Steve a moment to figure out why, but he finally realized that it was because she only had on half a face of make-up. Her right eye looked as perfect as it could with her having been crying, but the left side was only half-finished. This gave her a kind of crazed look which, paired with her wet bathrobe and disheveled hair, made her quite a sight. It was really rather funny if you thought about it. Shaking his head, Steve gave a chuckle.

"Well," he said, a grin spreading across his face, "what do you say we order a pizza, and I can make spaghetti tomorrow?"

Peggy's face fell even more, and Steve had just a second to realize that he _may _not have said the right thing before she burst into tears.

* * *

**A/N:** Poor Peggy. Even Steve can't say the right thing every time. :) I will use this as an opportunity to give a minor complaint about _Endgame_, though. (And, beware, it's VERY petty) I can't help but be a little upset that, with one throw-away line from Steve ("I'd offer to make you dinner, but you already look pretty miserable."), they managed to destroy a fairly well-established piece of fanon - that Steve is a good cook. Anyway, please let me know what you thought!

**Next up: **Who takes longer showers?


	14. Steam (2016)

**A/N: **This, believe it or not, was the very first snippet that I wrote. Originally I thought that all the answers would be drabbles, so I was aiming for word counts around two or three hundred words, five hundred tops. Ha! That didn't happen. But the result was that some of the ones I wrote earlier (this one, "Early Mornings", "London Fog", "Crooner", etc.) were a lot shorter than others. Anyway, thank you so much to you faithful readers, and please enjoy this little snippet. :)

* * *

**14\. Who takes longer showers?**

**Peggy. Do you know how long she had to go without while in the army? She's going to enjoy this.**

Peggy stepped into the shower and sighed. She just stood there for a moment and let the water run over her, warming her and letting her relax. It hadn't been a particularly stressful day, and she hadn't been on a dirty mission, but every day when she came home from work she did _this._ Just because she could. There had been so many terrible things about The War, but, while she didn't put it on par with any of the tragedies, the single most irritating thing about life on the front had been the lack of satisfactory bathing arrangements.

It had almost always been raining on the front, or when it wasn't raining it was unbearably humid, and to be the lone female officer in a military camp under those conditions had been, quite frankly, dreadful. The stink of sweat (other's and your own) would have been enough to drive away any sane woman, yet there Peggy had been, stuck by her own stupidity. And without a decent shower to boot. Thankfully, she had been able to wash regularly, but it was never as often as she would have liked, and cold water is only pleasant so long as you're caked up with sweat and dirt. One of the first things that Peggy had come to appreciate about life in the 21st century was the immediacy and seemingly never-ending supply of hot water. On cold days or after work she would come home and simply _bask _in the delight of a warm shower.

Peggy sighed again and massaged the shampoo into her hair. Then a knock came at the bathroom door and she heard Steve's muffled voice.

"Hey Peg?"

"Mmhm?" She mumbled out.

"Will you be out soon? We have to be at the restaurant at six and I still have to shower."

Peggy reached out of the shower and tapped her phone. The clock read 5:22. She gasped.

"Yes!" she called, hurriedly rinsing her hair. "Yes, I'll be out in just a minute!"

So much for that relaxing shower. Oh well. There would always be tomorrow.

* * *

**Next up:** Who stays up late and reads, and who falls asleep with their head in the other person's lap?


	15. Late Nights (2017)

**A/N: **So, I know that pregnancy has lots (and lots) of unromantic parts to it, but for some reason writing about it always brings out the fluffiest in me. Also, sleepy!Steve is just adorable. ^-^ Please let me know what you think!

* * *

**15\. Who stays up late and reads, and who falls asleep with their head in the first person's lap?**

**Peggy reads, Steve snores.**

Of all the many things that were unpleasant about third-trimester pregnancy, the one that Peggy found most consistently bothersome was the absence of any comfortable position in which to sleep. Maybe one night out of seven could she get settled in a way that didn't strain her back or push on her insides, but more often than not she found herself sitting in the living room and reading late into the night, waiting for exhaustion to finally claim her. That was precisely where she found herself now.

She had come out of her room a little over an hour ago and picked up a Dickens' book. She hoped it would be dense enough to slow her mind, but witty enough to be enjoyable. So far she hadn't been disappointed, and she was just muddling through her second chapter (wondering how this man could find so many different words to describe a dilapidated house) when she heard something. She glanced up, eyes going to the door to her and Steve's room. She heard bed clothes rustle, and then the shuffle of bare feet across the floor. The bedroom door opened and Peggy saw Steve come out, all plaid pajama pants and ruffled hair as he squinted against the light in the living room. He just stood there for a moment, and then yawned.

"Again?" he croaked, voice rough from sleep.

Peggy nodded, "Again."

Yawning again, Steve shuffled over to the couch and plopped down next to where Peggy had her feet stretched out. He lifted her feet onto his lap and began rubbing them slowly as he tried to blink the sleep out of his eyes. Peggy arched an eyebrow.

"What do you think you're doing?"

This seemed to puzzle Steve, and he had to pause in his massaging to think for a moment. It came to him after a second.

"I'm rubbing your feet."

Peggy let her book close on her finger like a bookmark. "No, no, no. What do you think you're doing _out of bed_?

"I turned over and," Steve spoke through a yawn, "you weren't there. So I came out here."

Peggy sighed. "As much as I appreciate the sentiment – and the foot massage – there's no use in the both of us being sleep deprived once this baby finally gets here. Go back to bed." Steve only shook his head, his eyelids already drooping. Peggy tried to remove her feet from his lap, but he held them in place, determinedly working his thumbs back and forth. She really did have to admit that it felt good.

_Fine. _Peggy thought. _Have it your way. You'll be asleep in minutes regardless._

Sure enough, as the seconds ticked by, Steve's hands moved slower and slower. Every now and again they would stop completely, but then he would jerk awake, shake his head, and start rubbing more briskly again. Finally, his hands stopped, his head drooped, and Peggy thought she heard the beginnings of a snore coming from his throat. Peggy leaned forward, making sure he was asleep, before drawing back her feet and nudging him with a toe.

"Hrm?" came the reply.

"Steve, go to bed."

He puffed out an enormous sigh. "M'kay."

Peggy thought she had won, but instead of Steve getting up, he started to tip sideways. Before she could do anything to stop it, his head was in her lap, his feet were being lifted onto the couch, and his arm was snaking around her expanded waistline. Giving a grunt of dismay, Peggy was about to move his arm, but then she saw a silly smile grow on his already-sleeping face. The bridge of Steve's nose was pressed right against her round belly, and he was snuggling closer to it, smiling all the while.

Peggy's eyes softened and she ran her hand over his head and down his neck. She felt him relax even further, and she smiled to herself, setting her book to the side in favor of threading her fingers through his hair. Her heart swelled, and she could feel warmth spread through her body as she looked at her husband's sleeping face. Goodness knew that pregnancy hadn't been a walk in the park, and that wasn't even including the labour which Peggy knew she was going to have to go through, but moments like these gave her enough faith that it would all be worth it. She savoured Steve's warm weight against her legs and around her middle, and how he smiled as he pressed close to where their child was. Somehow, while she ran her hand over his tousled head, Peggy was hit with a realization: this was what it meant to love and be loved. Here she felt like she was protecting and comforting, but she also felt protected and comforted. She felt peace, contentment, security, and all those other words that just mean _safe_. There was no room in this place for fear.

"_There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear_,_"_ she remembered.

Tears of joy pricking behind them, Peggy closed her eyes and thanked God for this imperfect love, made perfect through Him.

* * *

**A/N: **"There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear..." - _1 John 4:18a_

**Next up: **Who asks the weird questions in the middle of the night?


	16. Midnight Musings (2018)

**A/N: **Here you go! And thank you for the very kind responses I got to the last chapter! You all are sweet. ^_^

* * *

**16\. Who asks the weird questions in the middle of the night?**

**Peggy. When she's halfway between sleeping and waking, her brain can come up with some really weird stuff.**

Steve sighed quietly as he settled back down in his bed. He loved his son, but he was really looking forward to the time when Michael could sleep through the whole night. By all rights it would be Peggy's turn to get the baby next time he cried, so Steve settled in, hoping to get at least a few hours of sleep. Crickets were chirping outside, the air conditioner was humming pleasantly, and Steve's mind was just beginning to take on a pleasant haze when Peggy (who he had assumed had been asleep) spoke.

"Do you think animals are racist towards each other?"

Steve's brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of the question. He gave up after a few moments.

"What?"

"Like, mice and stuff," Peggy slurred, only half-awake. "Do you think that they discriminate based on what colour fur they have?"

Steve lifted his head off the pillow and looked at his wife, still thoroughly confused.

"What in the world made you think of that?"

"Well," Peggy's eyes were still closed and she didn't seem to have woken up any more, "I was thinking about how there are lots of different colour mice, and lots of different colour people, and about how people bully each other, and I wondered if mice did." There was a pause. "I think scientists should look into that."

Steve sighed, "We can tell Tony to get right on it tomorrow." He put his head back down and closed his eyes, thinking that this strange conversation was over. Peggy snorted.

"Don't be silly," she yawned. "He's not _that_ kind of scientist."

Steve didn't even know what kind of scientist would be needed for testing the prejudices of rodents, but he decided not to say anything. Peggy didn't say anything either for a few moments, but then:

"Isn't it just awful to think of all the hatred that must be going on all around us? And not even from people."

"Peggy, I honestly don't think that mice are smart enough to think past what's for dinner."

Peggy seemed rather offended, "'Course they are! They wouldn't be used for experiments if they were stupid."

"Well fine," Steve was beginning to get frustrated, "if they're smart, then they're smart enough to know that all mice are the same under the fur. Therefore, no racism. Can we go to sleep now?"

"But people are intelligent, most of the time, anyway, and we know that we're all the same underneath, but we still bully each other for our differences."

Steve groaned. "Look, I'm not having an argument about mouse prejudice at," he rolled over to look at the clock, "two-forty-five. I'm going to sleep. If you really think that this is important, you can talk about it in the morning. Goodnight." Peggy grumbled to herself, but didn't outright object. Steve was just drifting off when Peggy's voice woke him again.

"Are you still awake?"

Steve growled.

"Oh, good." Peggy didn't even pause. "Why aren't cows afraid of us? All we ever do is eat them and harvest their milk."

* * *

**A/N: ***sigh* Poor Steve. I'm usually the one who wants to go to sleep in this kind of situation, so I can commiserate with him very easily.

**Next up: **How good will they be at parenting?


	17. Mother Hen (2023)

**A/N: **Here's chapter 17! Guys... we only have three more chapters... I haven't said it in a while, so I'll say now, thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites, and follows. I know it sounds like a line, but it does honestly make me smile every time when I get one of those notifications. :) Please enjoy!

* * *

**17\. How good will they be at parenting?**

**Fantastic. But Peggy will probably have to keep reminding Steve that the kid can do things for himself.**

_If he looks out that window one more time I'm going to- Oh good grief!_

The Rogers had just gotten done with dinner, and the children had just been excused from the table. Timothy had gone into the living room, and Michael – the older of the two boys – had gone to play outside on the playset. Peggy could hear Timothy in the other room making sound effects and crashing his toys together, but Steve's eyes were glued to the window, watching his other son outside. It wasn't in a fond, happy way though, it was in a worried, he's-going-to-hurt-himself way, and Peggy couldn't stand it any longer.

"Would you stop that?"

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking out that window every ten seconds like an absolute mother hen!"

Steve's head didn't even turn, "I am not a mother hen."

"You are so!" Peggy said with a disbelieving laugh. "And to think that you're the same man that jumped on a grenade." This got Steve's attention, so Peggy locked eyes with him. "_In training_!"

Steve opened his mouth, "Now hold on just a minute-"

"And that's only one of many examples of your reckless stupidity."

A slightly offended expression crossed Steve's face and he muttered "reckless stupidity" under his breath before replying, "I thought you thought it was heroic."

Peggy paused for a moment, thinking. "I'll admit that it definitely got my attention, and your heart was in the right place, but in hindsight, I think it was more irresponsible than brave."

"And I guess that means that you think my going after the 107th was 'irresponsible' too?" He used air quotes for emphasis. Peggy simply rolled her eyes.

"Of course not! There were men in peril in that situation. The grenade was thrown by your instructor in _training_. It wasn't an attack." She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, "If Barnes were here, he would agree with me."

Steve groaned and shook his head, "I still can't believe you told him about that. I knew it would probably get around to him sooner or later, but I didn't expect _you _to tell him!" He looked back up at her accusingly. "You know he still gives me grief over that, right?" Peggy merely shrugged, feigning innocence.

"I thought he had a right to know. And also, I found it more amusing at the time than I do now."

Steve sighed, turning his head to the window again.

"Ah yes!" Peggy interjected, getting him to look back at her, "That reminds me of _why_ we started this conversation. You are a mother hen," Steve again opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but wasn't given the chance, "and if you can jump on a grenade without cause, I think you can let your son play on the monkey bars without supervision."

"But Peggy, he's six…"

"And you're one-hundred-and-five," Peggy said, standing up from the dinner table and collecting plates, "but don't think that will get you out of KP. It's your turn." She went to the kitchen with her load, and Steve stood up too, sparing another glance out the window before his wife's "On the double, Captain!" propelled him into the kitchen.

* * *

**A/N: **Slightly unrelated headcanon: I like to think that, after he has kids, Steve reflects in horror on the fact that he beat up a fifteen-year-old.

**Next up:** Who shoves the other into the pool?


	18. Water Safety (2024)

**A/N: **Chapter 18! Please let me know what you think, I'm not as sure about this one, though I dearly like the concept and characters. If you want any explanations about characters or timelines in this one, ask me! As I have said with other things, I have a whole timeline. :]

* * *

**18\. Who shoves the other into the pool?**

**Believe it or not, Steve. Though it's more of a scoop up and toss than a shove. Peggy takes too long to get in the water.**

_You have been cordially invited to a celebration of the centennial of one of America's greatest national treasures: Captain Steven Grant Rogers. As recognition for reaching this momentous occasion, a banquet will be held in Captain America's honor on July the Fourth of the year 2024. Guests are expected to arrive by eight o' clock, post meridian of Wednesday, July the Third, and will be entertained at 10880 Malibu Point until twelve o' clock, noon of Friday, July the Fifth. Fireworks to follow the banquet._

-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-

When the invitation had come, horribly gaudy and scattering red white and blue glitter everywhere, Steve had feared the worst. The paper's horrifying shade of red, as well as the ridiculous words, filled him with dread. He had wanted to argue that it had been more than six years since his hundredth birthday (Tony had been a bit preoccupied at the time, fortunately), or that he had never actually confirmed that his birthday was on the 4th of July (though it was, unfortunately), but he had known it wouldn't have done any good. He resigned himself to the fact that he was going to 10880 Malibu Point, and he was going to be thrown the most over-the-top birthday party ever.

He would have been, too, if it hadn't been for Pepper. It turned out that Mrs. Stark had vetoed nearly every idea that Tony had pitched her, and, consequently, her husband had been left only the invitation to express his ridiculousness. The party which he would have had as a wild, patriotic-themed prank turned out to be a very nice gathering of the Avengers and their families.

Steve, Peggy, and their boys had been the first to arrive on Wednesday night and Steve had been overwhelmingly relieved when he realized that the party would be small. Well, relatively small. It turned out that, in the twelve years since the Avengers' founding, their group of six heroes had grown to include spouses, friends, and children. It wasn't just Tony now, it was Tony and Pepper and their son and daughter. Clint and his whole family were coming, and then there were Bruce and Betty (a relatively new arrangement), Thor, Rhodey, Sam, and finally Bucky and Natasha, with their three adopted additions – Josiah, Katerina, and Inez.

Supper on the 3rd had been a comfortable affair, with all the adults catching up and the kids getting acquainted. The Barton, Barnes, and Rogers children already considered themselves cousins, and David and Morgan Stark made friends easily, so they were all thick as thieves by the time bedtime rolled around. There were complaints when their parents finally shooed them off to bed, but the promise of a pool party the next day made it easier.

-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-

The next day did indeed bring a pool party, and – though it wasn't soon enough for some of the kids – most of the guests were out in the Stark's pool by no later than ten o' clock. Apparently Pepper had let Tony have some control over the decorations for this, because red white and blue streamers were everywhere, along with party hats and patriotic balloons, and there was the promise (or rather, the threat) of fireworks that evening. There was stereotypical big band music playing too. Steve wasn't going to complain, though. He was surrounded by his favorite people – his family, really – and was truly enjoying himself. The only thing bothering him was the fact that Peggy wouldn't get in the pool.

She had said she would swim and had put on her bathing suit. Once they were outside, she laid out towels for the family, put on sunscreen, and stuck her foot in the water just _once_ before gasping and pulling it back out.

"Good grief!"

Steve, who was already in the water, turned when he heard her. "What?"

"It's freezing!" she looked worriedly towards Michael and Timothy, who were bobbing along happily in their life jackets. "If I had known it was this cold I wouldn't have let them in."

"What are you talking about? The water is fine."

Peggy shot him an incredulous look. "You must be joking." She dipped her foot in again and pulled it out just as quickly as the first time. "It's like an ice-bucket!"

"Peggy," Steve intoned as he pulled himself over to where the pool thermometer was. He tapped the display on the side of the pool and looked at the numbers, "it's eighty-two degrees." He was met with a blank stare from his wife, and he sighed as he looked at the display again. "Twenty-eight degrees," he amended. Peggy considered this.

"I'll admit that it sounds warm, but it certainly doesn't feel it! Now, would you please be so kind as to get our sons out of that water before they freeze to death?"

He gave a sigh. "Peggy, normally I'd agree with you, but they're fine! Do they look cold to you?" Peggy followed his gaze to the middle of the pool where Sam, Josiah, and Cooper were currently fending off attacks from the rest of Sam's nieces and nephews. They looked far from hypothermic.

Peggy rolled her eyes. "Alright then, fine. But when they come to me with chattering teeth, I'm blaming you!" With that she retreated to her beach chair and threw on her swimsuit coverup before heading to talk to some of the others who weren't swimming.

The morning went on, and a good bit of the early afternoon, but neither Steve nor his sons had been able to convince the good Mrs. Rogers to come into the pool. She just sat there and talked, or read, or slept. Steve would have been lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed. It was almost two o'clock when Natasha swam over to where he was.

"You know," she said, casting a covert glance to where Peggy was sunning herself, "she's off her guard right now. I could probably wrestle her into the pool if you wanted me to."

Steve smirked, "No thanks. I appreciate the offer, but-" he also glanced towards his wife, and he had an idea. "But I think I might have something else for you to do."

Natasha grinned.

-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-

An unsuspicious amount of time later, Natasha had gotten out of the pool and was toweling herself off. Her necklace, which she had forgotten ("forgotten") to take off was now tangled in her hair and she wanted to get it unstuck. She walked over to the nearest person.

"Hey, could you help me with this?"

Peggy looked up from her phone to see what the other woman was talking about.

"I could get it out myself," Natasha continued, turning so the brunette could see where the chain had wrapped itself into the woman's hair, "but I'd prefer not to rip out a chunk of my hair right now."

"Of course," Peggy smiled and stood up to help, tucking her phone under her arm. It took barely a few moments, and Natasha turned around when she was done.

"Thanks," she said, smiling. Then her demeanor changed. Before Peggy had time to react (which was very quick indeed), Natasha had taken her phone from under her arm and someone had grabbed her from behind, carrying her away.

She let out a cry, writhing around to try and escape her captor. She had just enough time to recognize that it was Steve, and that he was sprinting towards the pool with her, before she was being released through the air and plunging into frigid water. She came up sputtering. Her sunglasses were gone and her gauzy coverup was billowing in the water around her.

"Steven Grant- why you- You're lucky I-!" she was interrupted by another great wave as Steve cannon-balled into the pool to join her. _He_ came up grinning.

"I'm lucky you're what?" he asked innocently. She answered him with chattering teeth and a resounding slap to his bare shoulder. He just laughed.

"I guess I deserve that, but you," he started to put his arms around her waist, "wouldn't get in the pool."

"Oh no you don't!" she shoved his hands away. "You don't get to do that! Not after-" she was interrupted again, but this time it was by two tiny splashes. Michael and Timothy had seen the commotion and were swimming towards her, ecstatic that their mother had finally joined them. They both started talking at once, so Peggy was distracted from her anger with Steve, and she soon forgot it.

-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-S&P-

The rest of the day went wonderfully. They passed a few more happy hours swimming, and then all went inside to clean up for supper. After supper, when all the little ones had been carried off to bed, sound asleep, and everyone else was otherwise occupied, Steve and Peggy slipped away from the party. Hand in hand, they snuck out the door and down the patio stairs, grinning like teenagers who were somewhere they weren't supposed to be. Steve found the remote for the sound system and they danced for a while, swaying back and forth as the sun sank low in the sky. Slowly, the clouds shifted from fiery orange to blushing pink, and Steve and Peggy went back down to the pool, slipping their feet into the water as they and watched the sun set and the stars come out.

* * *

**A/N:** Well that took an unexpectedly fluffy turn at the end. I hope you liked it. :) Just in case any of you were wondering, the reason that Tony forgot Cap's big One-Zero-Zero in the first place was that he had just had his second child (the adorable Morgan), and was a bit preoccupied.

**Next up:** Who tells the kids bedtime stories?


	19. Space Mountain (2025)

**A/N: **So, there's been a change of plans. I know this isn't the prompt that I said it would be, but I realized that the other one is much more of a closing chapter than this is, so I decided to do this one instead. I hope you enjoy! It's got a special guest appearance from my favorite non-canon OTP. ;)

* * *

**19\. Who likes roller coasters more?**

**Peggy. Steve still has bad memories from ****Coney Island.**

For the first time in a very long time, Steve wished he had asthma again, at least then he'd have a viable excuse. As it stood, however, all he had was nearly twenty-five years of residual fear, and that was unfortunately not enough to stop his wife.

"Come on Steve! What's the point of coming to Disney World if you won't ride anything?"

"The point," Steve replied emphatically, "is to have fun. I don't think roller coasters are fun, which means that it would defeat the purpose of coming here for me to ride one."

Peggy rolled her eyes. "You haven't ridden a roller coaster in nearly eighty years! Don't you want to find out if they've changed?"

Steve was about to very definitely say that, No, he didn't want to find out, when a voice came from behind him.

"Oh, leave him alone, Peggy. It's not recommended that the elderly ride roller coasters anyway."

Steve sighed and turned around to see Natasha and Bucky sauntering up, hand in hand.

"You know, Romanoff, that's not really the kind of support I was looking for."

Natasha just rolled her eyes, but Bucky was ready to join in on Peggy's side.

"Yeah, Stevie, you came all the way to the future, you have to at least ride Space Mountain."

Steve turned an exasperated look on his friend, who had a self-satisfied grin on his own face.

"You know you're the reason I hate amusement parks, right?"

"Of course I do! I get the honor of being on the very short list of people who can strike fear into the heart of the great Captain America!" Bucky emphasized the title as he slung an arm around Steve's neck. "I'd say that's one of my finer achievements, wouldn't you?"

"Well, considering it's not true, I'd say no." Steve ducked out from under the arm with ease.

"Oh!" Bucky feigned surprise, "So you're _not_ scared?"

"Of course not!"

"Then prove it, punk."

There was a pause. Steve was obviously conflicted. Any apprehension he had towards roller coasters didn't factor in this decision, however; it was all about which bait to take. Should he take the challenge that he knew he had been lured into? Or should he opt out and be called a coward? The decision really didn't take all that long.

"You're on, jerk."

Without another word to their wives, Captain America and the Winter Soldier took off at a dead sprint towards Space Mountain. The Director of SHIELD and the Black Widow watched until the men turned a corner.

"So," Natasha finally said, "ice cream, and then we go find those dorks?"

"Good plan."

* * *

**A/N: **I agree with Nat: they're such dorks. Lovable dorks though. :)

**Finale:** Who tells the kids bedtime stories?


	20. Storyteller (2025)

**A/N: **Here we are everyone: the last chapter. I really cannot thank you all enough for the favorites, follows, reads, and reviews you have given me. I especially want to say thanks to _marteeey,_ _Ryn, missmwood, _and the wonderful _Mellia Bee_. They encouraged me and let me know that my stories weren't for nothing. :)

* * *

**20\. Who tells the kids bedtime stories?**

**Steve. He's always been the better one at things like that. Peggy doesn't let him know, but sometimes she lingers by the children's door and listens too.**

Peggy pulled the door to the boys' room shut and made her way quietly down the hall to the living room. Steve was sitting on the couch with a book, but he smiled at her as she entered.

"Did they go down pretty well?"

Peggy plopped down next to Steve and nestled into his side. "Very well, actually," she narrowed her eyes. "Almost suspiciously so." Steve chuckled.

"Well, they can't throw a fit every time, can they?"

"I suppose not," she released a contented sigh, leaning her head on his shoulder. Steve resumed his reading, and a peaceful quiet settled over the two of them. Then Steve's head came up. Peggy glanced at him and saw the beginnings of a smile forming on his face.

"What is it?"

Steve looked down at her. "You know," he said, a light in his eyes that Peggy knew all too well, "we don't have work tomorrow, and the kids are in bed early…" Steve trailed off and raised an eyebrow at her. Peggy grinned too, mirroring his expression.

"I like where this is going," she said. Within seconds, Steve's book had been tossed on the table and he was tugging Peggy closer. His arms wrapped around her waist as their lips met, and she was just beginning to thread her fingers through his hair when they heard a door creak from down the hall. Their eyes flew open and they froze mid-kiss. Both deflating a little, they separated. Peggy sighed and slid off of Steve's lap, and Steve sighed and picked up his book again as little footsteps made their way down the hall. After a moment, a tousled blond head appeared in the doorway. Steve cleared his throat.

"You're supposed to be in bed," he stated obviously. The little boy crowded closer to the wall.

"I can't sleep."

The parents glanced at each other sideways.

"Did you try really, _really_ hard?" Peggy asked. Timothy nodded. Peggy motioned for him to come to her, and so he crossed the room, clambering up to sit in her lap.

"Is Michael asleep?" Steve asked. Timothy shook his head.

"He telled me to come tell you that we're awake."

"Well what do you think would help you sleep?"

Timothy's eyes lit up, "Could Daddy come and tell us a story?"

A corner of Steve's mouth quirked up. Ever since Michael had been a baby, Steve had been the one to tell the bedtime stories. They were wildly outrageous and thrilling from start to finish, not to mention funny and, because it was Steve who told them, meaningful. The boys loved them and took every opportunity of coercing their father into telling them those stories, which were pulled straight from the streets of Depression Era Brooklyn. Steve turned his half-grin on Peggy, which made Timothy stare at her hopefully.

"Well Mumma," Steve asked, using the boys' term for their mother, "what do you think? Could Daddy go tell them a story?" Peggy acted reluctant, though a smile of her own betrayed her.

"I suppose it would be alright," she said at last. Timothy fairly shrieked with delight and bounced up and down in his mother's lap, causing her to wince slightly. Steve took that as his cue and swept the exuberant five-year-old into his arms as he stood up.

"But!" Steve said in a warning tone, "I won't be able to tell the story if you're being so loud." Timothy stilled immediately and clapped his little hands over his mouth. Steve chuckled and made his way towards the hall.

"Did I ever tell you about the time that Uncle James and I…"

As soon as Steve and Timothy disappeared into the boys' room, Peggy stole off the couch and down the hall, stopping just shy of the children's door. She would never let Steve know, but she loved his stories almost as much as the boys did, if not for the same reasons. Michael and Timothy loved their action and adventure, but Peggy loved their heart. If it hadn't been for bedtime stories, she wouldn't have known much at all about Steve's childhood, and she wouldn't have known how very different he used to be in some ways, though he was still very much the same in others. She loved listening to his voice as he narrated, now low and dramatic, now loud and comical. If Peggy had been able to draw like Steve could, she would have drawn her husband telling stories to their sons: his eyes wide and expressive, his hands stretched out to visualize some past danger, and his two little boys sitting before him, rapt and attentive. Somehow it was an action that brought out all of Steve's best characteristics, and Peggy loved him for it.

She could tell that the story was winding down, and the boys were beginning to droop a little bit, so Peggy rose and began to move from the doorway. She passed silently by as Steve was tucking the boys in and went to hers and Steve's room. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her however, her thoughts moved off in a very different direction. She grinned.

She and Steve had some unfinished business.

* * *

**A/N: **Aaaannd, that's a wrap! I hope you guys enjoyed my foray into the field of might-have-beens. It'll probably be a pretty long time before I have something else like this to post, but I do have a list of prompts (some different, some the same) for Bucky and Natasha set in this same AU, so... We'll see. ;) Thanks again!

-Mellpen


	21. 20 More Questions

**A/N: **Ha! I'm back! A while ago I asked if you all would like to see a bonus chapter; the "deleted scenes", if you will. When I was coming up with the prompts, I got a bit carried away. I had so much fun answering them in short-style that I ended up with _40_ questions instead of 20! I knew I was only going to write half of them, so I picked and chose the ones that I thought were most interesting. That being said, there were still quite a few that I liked the idea of, but just didn't take the time to write stories for. Some of you guys said you would like to see them, so here they are!

Steve&Peggy's 20 **_More_** Questions ;)

Thank you guys!

* * *

**Who's more likely to give the silent treatment when they're upset?**

Steve. But it's not that he's spiteful, just that he knows that if he starts talking he'll shout, and he doesn't want to shout at Peggy.

**Who has better "puppy-dog" eyes?**

Peggy. Steve got too much unwanted sympathy before the serum, so he tries to avoid making himself look pitiful.

**Who makes bad puns and who reacts to the puns with a pained smile?**

The quality of Peggy's sense of humor is surprisingly terrible. Steve gives a sympathetic chuckle every now and then.

**Who would have to bail the other out of jail?**

Though it's never actually happened, Peggy's gotten awfully close to being taken down to the station.

**Who sings along to the radio?**

Peggy. She tries very hard to get Steve to sing with her, but he seldom does.

**Who feeds the ducks at the park?**

Both of them. They like to go to the park on Sunday afternoons and watch them.

**Who's language/writing skills are better and who couldn't care less?**

They are both very meticulous about their words, spoken and written.

**Who tells the other one not to stay up all night, and who stays up anyway?**

Neither. When they're off duty they keep a tight schedule and are usually in bed before 10:00.

**Who consistently steals the other's clothes?**

Peggy says they're more comfortable than hers.

**Who drives and who gives directions?**

Steve drives, Peggy directs. They're always very punctual.

**Who's the dog person and who's the cat person?**

Steve says dogs, and Peggy has to agree with him.

**Who tells their friends/family about their relationship first?**

They try to make a grand announcement together, but no one seems very excited or surprised by it.

**Who is more likely to ask the other to dance with them?**

They don't ask. One just tugs at the other's hand and they swing into motion.

**Who holds the other back by the back of their shirt when they're about to do something stupid?**

Neither of them is very well known for using reason when it comes to the fights they pick, so they take turns.

**Who spends almost all their money on the other?**

Steve goes overboard. He hasn't quite adjusted to having lots of money, and what else was he going to spend it on?

**Who is most affectionate?**

Steve. He loves that little squeak Peggy makes when he sneaks up on her and gives her a hug.

**Who worries most?**

Steve. He worries about everything. Except himself, of course.

**Who wants kids and how many?**

They both want kids, the number is what they differ on. Steve would take a whole orphanage, Peggy simply raises an eyebrow and says "We'll see."

**Who looks best in a tux/gown?**

They look great individually, but boy do they make a killer couple at Tony's Christmas parties.

**Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?**

Peggy. Steve would be too worried about waking her up to do that.


End file.
